like it here. I like the people in the town down the mountain. Being so high up makes me feel as far away from 'home' as I really am. And up here, I can walk for an hour and see somewhere different instead of simply mile upon mile of flat land." She tested the edge of her dagger, gave it a critical look, then finally, with a sense of reluctance, put it down. "Besides, the hunting is good."
"The bandits never bother you?"
"I can avoid them, and none of them have ever found this cabin." Camille shot Helgaer an amused look. "Do you remember how to get here?"
Helgaer took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when pain shot from her injured flesh. "I wasn't in any condition to remember much," she said.
"I would wager you would not have remembered the way anyhow," Camille said with absolute confidence in her voice.
"We are high, and we are remote," she continued. "I know an easy route down to the town, but there is no easy route back. Climbing is involved. If you wish to walk the entire distance, then it takes most of a day for a journey that takes me an hour while carrying a heavy load of skins. Oh no, bandits do not often trouble me here."
The next morning, Camille headed down the mountain with a bundle of skins, telling Helgaer not to expect her until close to nightfall.
Helgaer, with great care, changed the bandage and pads herself, mixing up a paste from herbs Camille left for her. She had always healed quickly, but had never before had a wound so severe. She put on the old farmer's shirt, which was more comfortable than hers.
She practised lightly with her sling again, moving her hips without moving her waist, beginning to get faster and harder without aggravating her wound.
Then, she set out to find the creek Camille had mentioned.
Camille had not left a clear trail, of course. Helgaer found it by following her instincts, an animal trail and, finally, her ears.
It was wide and deep enough to wash clothes in, but not to fully submerge in, even if it were not bitingly cold.
Taking very careful note of her surroundings, Helgaer followed the stream uphill to where it emerged from the side of the mountain. She followed it a little way downhill, but did not go too far while still injured and without knowing the forest.
She was sitting on a rock, resting the muscles around her wound, when a wood pigeon perched on a tree not far away.
She very carefully undid her sling, picked up a good rock from near her feet and stood up slowly. The pigeon did not move until the sling whipped around and over. She had judged the rock well, but a stab of pain from her side threw her aim off, and the pigeon was not even threatened.
Helgaer sat down again quickly, holding her side for what felt like a long time until the pain subsided again.
She carefully lifted the shirt Camille had given her and checked her bandages, but there did not seem to be any fresh blood.
"A crossbow," she muttered to the forest. "I need a crossbow."
She stayed by the creek for two hours, taking her time over collecting a pouch full of good rocks before finally convincing herself it was safe enough to take her shirt off. She scrubbed herself clean with a wad of linen she had already washed clean of blood and herbal paste.
When the forest failed to produce any dangerous animals or noises, she unbound her breasts, unwrapping a length of cloth that went around her five times. The relief was heavenly, but did not last long enough to stop her hating the way they hung heavily on her chest. She washed the cloth and then herself, gritting her teeth in indecision before leaving the binding off so it could dry.
She put the shirt back on before unlacing her boots. She had not taken her pants off for four days. She spent a long time scrubbing herself violently, stopping occasionally with a sharp intake of breath when she moved too enthusiastically for her wound to bear, before swabbing down the inside of her fur pants.
She carried her boots as she headed uphill
"The bandits never bother you?"
"I can avoid them, and none of them have ever found this cabin." Camille shot Helgaer an amused look. "Do you remember how to get here?"
Helgaer took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when pain shot from her injured flesh. "I wasn't in any condition to remember much," she said.
"I would wager you would not have remembered the way anyhow," Camille said with absolute confidence in her voice.
"We are high, and we are remote," she continued. "I know an easy route down to the town, but there is no easy route back. Climbing is involved. If you wish to walk the entire distance, then it takes most of a day for a journey that takes me an hour while carrying a heavy load of skins. Oh no, bandits do not often trouble me here."
The next morning, Camille headed down the mountain with a bundle of skins, telling Helgaer not to expect her until close to nightfall.
Helgaer, with great care, changed the bandage and pads herself, mixing up a paste from herbs Camille left for her. She had always healed quickly, but had never before had a wound so severe. She put on the old farmer's shirt, which was more comfortable than hers.
She practised lightly with her sling again, moving her hips without moving her waist, beginning to get faster and harder without aggravating her wound.
Then, she set out to find the creek Camille had mentioned.
Camille had not left a clear trail, of course. Helgaer found it by following her instincts, an animal trail and, finally, her ears.
It was wide and deep enough to wash clothes in, but not to fully submerge in, even if it were not bitingly cold.
Taking very careful note of her surroundings, Helgaer followed the stream uphill to where it emerged from the side of the mountain. She followed it a little way downhill, but did not go too far while still injured and without knowing the forest.
She was sitting on a rock, resting the muscles around her wound, when a wood pigeon perched on a tree not far away.
She very carefully undid her sling, picked up a good rock from near her feet and stood up slowly. The pigeon did not move until the sling whipped around and over. She had judged the rock well, but a stab of pain from her side threw her aim off, and the pigeon was not even threatened.
Helgaer sat down again quickly, holding her side for what felt like a long time until the pain subsided again.
She carefully lifted the shirt Camille had given her and checked her bandages, but there did not seem to be any fresh blood.
"A crossbow," she muttered to the forest. "I need a crossbow."
She stayed by the creek for two hours, taking her time over collecting a pouch full of good rocks before finally convincing herself it was safe enough to take her shirt off. She scrubbed herself clean with a wad of linen she had already washed clean of blood and herbal paste.
When the forest failed to produce any dangerous animals or noises, she unbound her breasts, unwrapping a length of cloth that went around her five times. The relief was heavenly, but did not last long enough to stop her hating the way they hung heavily on her chest. She washed the cloth and then herself, gritting her teeth in indecision before leaving the binding off so it could dry.
She put the shirt back on before unlacing her boots. She had not taken her pants off for four days. She spent a long time scrubbing herself violently, stopping occasionally with a sharp intake of breath when she moved too enthusiastically for her wound to bear, before swabbing down the inside of her fur pants.
She carried her boots as she headed uphill
Similar Books
Causing a Commotion
Janice Lynn
Red Seas Under Red Skies
Scott Lynch
The Signal
Ron Carlson
Heart Thief
Robin D. Owens
Straight No Chaser
Jack Batten
How Kirsty Jenkins Stole the Elephant
Elen Caldecott
Personal Statement
Jason Odell Williams
Owning His Bride
Sue Lyndon
Healing Fire
Sean Michael
Miracles on Maple Hill (Harcourt Young Classics)
Virginia Sorensen